


Taking on the World

by Gremkt



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Asexual Warden, F/M, Fluff, There’s gonna be so much fluff for these two, camp shenanigans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:21:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23390893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gremkt/pseuds/Gremkt
Summary: A collection of (hopefully very soft and fluffy) one shots staring Wardens Frankie Brosca and Alistair Theirin in various stages throughout their relationship.Set in my multi Warden AU so there may be other Wardens popping up occasionally.
Relationships: Alistair/Brosca (Dragon Age), Alistair/Female Warden (Dragon Age), Alistair/Warden (Dragon Age)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 11





	1. Watching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frankie watches Alistair spar one night.

Swords met in a clash, flashing as they caught the light from the campsite fire. Alistair twisted, dodging to the side to avoid the follow up blow as Sten’s sword bounced off his shield, swinging a blow of retaliation as the Qunari adjusted to compensate. 

These sparring matches weren’t an uncommon occurrence around the campsite. With the ongoing risk presented by the new normal of their lives, a risk that seemed to increase with every passing day, the need to keep your skills sharp was essential. The opportunity to break the monotony that started to creep in after day after day travelling was an added bonus. 

Initially Frankie had sat by the fire to sharpen the edge on her sword as she watched but the environment had become a distraction, and sharpening a blade was not a safe task for distracted minds and hands. Her current job was ensuring her armour was polished to the meticulous standards she aimed so hard to maintain. While her hands worked, her eyes watched the way both men moved, the moves they made, the strategies they used to counteract the threat of the other. 

“Wait a moment, how did you do that?” Alistair exclaimed as Sten almost forced the shield from his hand. “Come on, show me?”

“It’s a nice view, isn’t it?” Leliana’s voice sounded from beside her and she jumped. 

“They’re both excellent swordsmen,” Frankie said, eyes still on the men as her hands fussed over the metal surface of her breastplate. 

“Indeed they are.” There was a hint of amusement in Leliana’s voice. “But I suspect there may be one more than the other who catches your eye.”

Frankie tried to ignore the warm flush in her cheeks, even as she protested having any idea what the woman was talking about.

“There is no shame in looking,” Leliana continued. “Especially when he might be noticed looking in much the same way.” 

“He wouldn’t be looking at me,” Frankie said softly, not exactly sure how to explain or define the feelings triggered by that thought. Did she want Alistair to be looking at her? What did she want him to be thinking if he was?

“You’re much too hard on yourself,” said Leliana, her laugh lighthearted, friendly. “But even if he does not, there is still no harm in watching or admiring. We all do sometimes, although some perhaps more than others.” Her head turned to look across the camp to where Zevran sat with Morrigan and Shayla. Given the assortment of jars in front of them, Frankie couldn’t help but wonder if the elf was teaching them about some new poison or potion. No doubt she’d hear about it later if it were useful.

There was no doubt Zevran watched Alistair sometimes. Shayla did too, and Morrigan, but their watching was different - much more disdainful than admiring. But was Zevran’s watching the same as her own? 

With that thought planted, Leliana excused herself to practice the lute she’d acquired at the last town, leaving Frankie to polish her armour alone as the faint music drifted across the camp. 

Across the fire, Alistair managed to successfully disarm Sten, seemingly to the Quinari’s disgust. As he shouted his triumph, he glanced up around the fire. His face lit up in a grin as he met Frankie’s gaze and she gave him a shy smile back, raising her hands in a silent imitation of a clap, knowing he wouldn’t hear a real one. 

The smile disappeared as Sten took advantage of his distraction, sweeping his feet out from under him. Alistair’s affronted cry echoed across the campsite as he hit the ground. Frankie tried not to laugh as she looked away, returning her attention to her armour. Satisfied with the standard of her breastplate, she turned her attention to her pauldron, determined to focus and stop letting the men sparing distract her. Footsteps sounded and she glanced up, checking to see who approached her. 

“You’re looking very polished,” said Alistair as he reached her, cocky grin on his face at his own pun as he positioned himself beside her. “Oh look, I can see my face is that one.”

“Are you done losing to Sten?” 

“I wasn’t losing! I won...some bouts. Well, one of them. Almost two.”

“Out of how many?” She gave him a quick sideways look to check that her teasing wasn’t bothering him but he had his usual good natured expression, with just a hint of mock offence. 

“Hey! The important thing to note is that I didn’t lose  _ all  _ of them. Just… just most of them. Besides, it was a kindness, really. I wouldn’t want to make poor Sten deal with losing all the time if I unleashed my true strength, he might get upset.” 

“How very noble of you to spare his feelings like that,” Frankie joked, enjoying the casual familiarity of the interaction. 

“That’s me,” he grinned at her. “Noble through and through.” He winced slightly at the words, seemingly recognising it wasn’t the best choice of words considering their recent conversation about his heritage.

“What was Sten teaching you?” she asked in an attempt to change the subject as she set the pauldron aside, reaching for her next piece of amour.

“He had this cool disarming trick. You don’t see it coming and then bam, suddenly you’re standing there not holding a sword or a shield! Not ideal when it happens to you but useful, I imagine, if it’s a darkspawn or a bandit standing there in front of you suddenly all surprised and weaponless.” Alistair picked up her jar of polish and looked at it closely as though trying to work out something about the paste within.

“That does sound useful.” 

“Maybe _ I _ could teach  _ you _ ! We could practice together.” He continued to inspect the jar of polish as Frankie’s hand stilled atop her armour. 

“I’d like that,” she said with a smile. “Maybe tomorrow though. I didn’t spend all this time polishing this scuff it up that soon.”

Alistair beamed at her. She liked it when he smiled. She liked it even more when it was directed at her.

“Deal,” he said. “Do you want some help with this? Not to brag but I have spent a  _ lot _ of time polishing armour in my life. I’m practically an expert by now.” 

“I’d like that,” Frankie repeated, watching as Alistair reached for one of the gauntlets lying on the ground beside them. 

She still didn’t know if Alistair watched her like she watched him, but he was her friend - her best friend, really - and she took comfort in that. As long as she had that, she wasn’t sure anything else was necessary. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shayla, who gets a brief mention, is my Tabris - both her and Frankie were recruited by Duncan and survived the joining in this AU. I’m hoping that eventually these stories will be companion stories to a much longer fic about that AU!
> 
> Frankie is on the asexual spectrum, and it’s likely that Alistair will be as well. That said, I’m still exploring the details of that and how to represent that here.


	2. The Tapster’s Tavern

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frankie and Alistair visit the Tapster’s Tavern in Orzammar and Frankie deals with some insecurities.  
> Written for the prompt “public kisses” from sweetsabran on tumblr.

The Tapster’s Tavern hadn’t been Frankie’s first choice of establishment. It was familiar, true, but very few positive memories had been formed there. But the others had wanted a warm, safe place to sit, drink, forget all their responsibilities, at least for a little while. The Orzammar pub fit most of those requirements - it was a warm place to sit and drink at the very least, and so that was where they had ended up. 

The novelty of sitting at chairs and tables finally the right size for her while her companions shifted awkwardly on their smaller chairs - Sten had abandoned his completely and sat directly on the ground - wasn’t enough to offset the discomfort and Frankie resolved to not stay long regardless of how long her companions lingered. 

Alistair sat beside her, his presence both a comfort and a curse. The tattoo on her face had a meaning here and her warden status did little to counteract it.

On the surface, being a Grey Warden earned respect from some, fear, or danger from others, but regardless of exactly what it meant to each individual, it carried a certain level of status. But here? She was still a brand, worthless. As they had entered, she had seen the desire to be known as the tavern chosen by the Grey Wardens and their surfacer companions warring with the distaste of serving  _ her _ . 

“You’ll need to order for me,” she’d muttered to Alistair when they arrived. Warden or not, she’d doubted they’d be any less reluctant to serve her than they’d have been before she joined the Wardens. 

“What, don’t have any coin left in that pouch?” Alistair had joked. “I knew you kept me around for a reason.”

The twitch of her hand towards her cheek had been involuntary but it happened nonetheless, and Alistair had clearly noticed. 

“I’ve put my foot in it again, haven’t I?” he’d said, a reassuring hand coming to rest on her shoulder. “Sorry. I’ll take care of it.”

It was still unclear if he’d noticed her flinch at the additional contact. 

He’d made good on his promise though, supplying her with the minimal drinks she’d consumed. Throughout the night so far, he had stuck close to her side as Frankie’s eyes darted around the room, watching, waiting for trouble that seemed inevitable. The sun had faded her brand as they travelled, but the mark still remained, ink spreading across her cheek like an awful shadow and highlighting that she wasn’t welcome. 

Beside her, Alistair laughed at whatever story Leliana was telling and Frankie shifted, positioning her body even further away from him. Orzammar may not respect her, never would, but there was no reason that he should suffer the indignity of being publicly involved with her. 

A fight broke out across the room, drawing Frankie’s attention as she assessed the level of threat. Before Duncan, before the Wardens, she had been involved in a number of such fights, and a significant factor in the instigation of many of them but now it was hardly worth a second thought. 

In fact, the fight only served to distract her long enough that she didn’t notice Alistair leaning down level with her ear. 

“You know you don’t have to stay here with me if you’re uncomfortable,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, loud enough for her alone to hear in the rowdy tavern. “I get it, why you don’t want to be seen with me.”

“You do?” Blood rushed to Frankie’s cheeks, pink spreading across her pale skin. Of course he had noticed. He was too perceptive not to have, and she just hoped she hadn’t made him feel bad. 

“A big ugly guy like me? Absolutely.” His cheerful laugh didn’t help ease her anxiety. “But I mean it, I do. I don’t want you to be subject to all of the rumours and gossip and whatever else spreads around these places. Assuming Orzammar gossip is the same as Redcliffe gossip, anyway, I’m not exactly an expert. But if you don’t want to be seen to be involved with a human, I get it. Really.”

Frankie just blinked at him as he rubbed his neck nervously, unsure what to say to that. He thought  _ she _ was embarrassed to be seen with  _ him _ ?

“That’s not it at all,” she said finally, wincing when the words came out much more dismissive than intended.

“No? Oh, I just assumed then. Wrongly, obviously. They do say to avoid assumptions, ass out of you and me and all that.”

“Alistair I’m casteless,” she interrupted. “I’m completely worthless here. Less than worthless.”

“You’re not worthless! You’re very worth...ful. Full of worth.” One of Alistair’s large hands rested over her own. Her face, still pink from before, grew even hotter as her heart skipped a beat and she tried to subdue the flight response the action triggered within her. 

“I know I’m not worthless, not now that I’m a warden.” Alistair opened his mouth, presumably to argue that being a warden didn’t have any impact on her worth but Frankie didn’t give him the chance. “But here, you’ll lose any credibility if they think you’re lowering yourself to a… to me.” 

“Frankie Brosca, I don’t think I’ve ever been considered credible in my life,” Alistair objected. “What have I got to lose?”

She didn’t answer, eyes averted. Alistair cupped her face with a hand, a single calloused finger tracing over the ugly brand, drawing her face up to look at him. 

“I don’t care what they think,” he said. “I just care about you.” 

“But what if…”

“No matter what,” he interrupted firmly, and Frankie felt a shy smile start to creep across her face. 

“Promise?” 

“Promise,” he said, leaning down to kiss her. “I don’t care what some old fashioned dwarfs who aren’t even smart enough to appreciate  _ you _ think of me.” 

“Thank you Alistair,” she said, pressing return kiss to his lips. His words meant a great deal to her, more than she could find the words to express, but she hoped he understood.

“We can leave if you want to,” Alistair said as she nestled closer against his side, trying to relax as she pushed feelings of insecurity away. “Right now, I don’t even need to finish my drink. Or I could finish it very quickly. Up to you really.”

“We can stay.” The anxiety hadn’t fully subsided but it had eased knowing that Alistair truly didn’t care about her status, about what everyone around them would think of her, of  _ him  _ for being with her. “At least for a little bit.”

“I’ll stay with you.” Alistair beamed at her, the smile lighting up his whole face. “I don’t care what they think. I care what you think. That’s it.”

With Alistair by her side, her body snug against his as she stole the occasional kiss, the Tapster’s Tavern suddenly didn’t seem so bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This fic is also on tumblr!](https://kirkwallgremlin.tumblr.com/post/190708087656/prompt-51-of-any-pairing-youd-like-thank-you-for) Feel free to come and yell with these two or anything else to do with Dragon Age and/or writing tbh.


	3. Sharing Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt "Sharing secrets or sharing drinks for Alistair and Frankie?" from not-plaidweave <3

Frankie didn’t drink often.

It reminded her too much of her mother, of the things people did and said when alcohol clouded their brain. But she was safe here, with friends who wouldn’t use their words to harm her when the drug influenced their thinking. 

She felt especially safe with Alistair beside her, the warmth of his large body beside her, his arm around her. He wouldn’t let anyone hurt her.

Perhaps that was why she let her guard down tonight, why her body felt light, her eyes heavy, her brain sluggish and slow from the drink in the mug they shared. 

“I shouldn’t have any more,” she said, reaching for Alistair’s mug anyway. He passed it to her, the taste of the mead sweet on her lips as she drank. It was almost empty and she frowned at it. “Why is it all gone?” 

“You drank it,” he said. 

“You drank more.”

“I’m bigger than you,” he pointed out and Frankie giggled, unable to stop herself as he took the mug away, set it on the table in front of them. He was big. Sometimes she felt like she was going to hurt her neck from all the looking up at him. 

She didn’t have to look up at him now. With the mug empty, she was happy just to rest against him, to let him look down at her. As if he didn’t do that enough anyway.

“Alistair,” she said, a thought crossing her mind. “Come here. I have something to tell you.” 

“What?”

“Closer,” she whispered, reaching up to touch his face as gently as she could. It twisted her body into a funny angle but she didn’t care. “It’s a secret.”

“How mysterious,” he whispered back. “I’m intrigued.” 

Frankie giggled again, a laugh interrupted by a hiccup.

“My name isn’t Frankie,” she said, and she felt Alistair lean back a little to look at her. Was he angry at her for lying? But his arms didn’t move, didn’t lift from where they wrapped around her, his body still rested behind her. Comforting. Supporting. 

“Then what is your name?”

“Francesca.” Frankie’s nose wrinkled as she said it. She hated the name, always had. It was too hard to pronounce as a child, too flowery for somebody like her. But Alistair deserved to know everything about her. Even the things she hated. 

“Francesca,” Alistair repeated, and while she still hated the name, she couldn’t help but hate it slightly less in his voice. “It’s beautiful. like you.”

“Gross,” she muttered, cheeks, already flushed from the alcohol, growing even hotter as she tried to hide her face against his chest. “Do you promise you won’t tell?”

Alistair promised. 

“Can I have some more?” she asked, reaching for the mug, pouting when she remembered it was empty. 

“I’m getting you some water,” Alistair said, beginning to detangle the limbs that wrapped around her. 

Frankie hiccuped again, leaning forward on the table, propping herself up with an elbow. 

“I love you,” she called after him as he walked towards their waterskins and Alistair turned back with a grin. 

“I love you too, Francesca,” he said, and he didn’t even seem to mind the tongue she poked out at him in response. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Also on tumblr - come and say hi! :D](https://kirkwallgremlin.tumblr.com/post/626613719198203904/sharing-secrets-or-sharing-drinks-for-alistair-and)


	4. Lifting-off-the-ground hug + Tired hug

The coronation ceremony was exhausting.

It felt as though there were more humans around than she had ever been around before, including the Landsmeet, and while there had probably been more in the human army at the final archdemon battle, this was overwhelming in a whole different way.

The focus may have been Anora, now officially the Queen of Ferelden, but Frankie had been subject to almost as much attention throughout the day. The nobles around her took every spare moment to vie for her time, wanting to claim the attention of the so-called Hero of Ferelden. All day, she had been regarded with admiration, disdain, curiosity, by everybody around her, never given a moment to herself. It was exhausting and yet the celebration, the attention, carried on around her as her energy dipped lower and lower. 

Alistair by her side was a comfort, both in his physical presence and in the reminder than it could have been him up there, alone or by the new queen’s side, without her, had he not made the choices he had. He never wanted to be the king, for any reason, but it still touched her that she had played such a significant factor in his decision.

She reached for his hand, seeking him out as she tried to stifle a yawn, wondering if it was too early to leave, if her absence would be noted. She was still working out the intricacies of all the diplomacy she had found herself trapped amongst.

“You’re tired,” he whispered as yet another noble attempted to approach, deterred by the look Alistair gave him as he drew close. Frankie shook her head but her body betrayed her with another yawn.

“This is important,” she said. “We need to be here.” 

“Come here,” Alistair said, reaching for her. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close against his chest. His hand traced the back of her head, brushing away the piece of hair that had escaped from her unfamiliar formal hairstyle. “You’ve done enough. This is just a fancy party, it’ll be ok without us.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, her eyes closing as she leaned against him. With his arms around her, she felt like she was cut off from the overwhelming crowd around her, from all of those expectations, like she was safe and quiet for the first time since the coronation had started. 

The ground tilted beneath her, her eyes flying open, disorientated, as Alistair scooped her from the ground.

“I’m sure. Besides, you’re the Hero of Ferelden! A hero! What’s the point in that if it can’t get you out of stuffy events early?”

“I think the lack of impending Blight is part of the point,” Frankie pointed out and Alistair made a dismissive noise. 

“A minor point,” he said. “Hardly significant at all. Shall we go, my lady?” 

“Are you going to let me walk?” she asked him, still cradled firmly in his arms, the warmth of his body against her. Alistair just grinned at her. Even now, after all this time, after everything they had been through together since Ostagar, through the Blight, his smile still filled her with joy. She hoped it never stopped. 

“Nope,” he said.

“Well then,” she said, her head resting against him. “I guess if you’re leaving, I have no choice but to go with you.”

As they left the coronation celebration, the chatter of the crowds growing distant behind them, Frankie found herself even more grateful that Alistair was here with her and not back there, sitting on the throne of Ferelden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [this one is also on tumblr!](https://kirkwallgremlin.tumblr.com/post/634829823835045888/i-saw-the-hug-prompts-18-for-alistair-and)


End file.
